


But Don't Worry

by ireallyneedthosestamps



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Flash Fic, M/M, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireallyneedthosestamps/pseuds/ireallyneedthosestamps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick little story based on how Patrick allegedly got his nose scar after Pete accidentally hit him with his bass onstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Don't Worry

Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck.

Pete stares at the gash he just made on Patrick’s face, blood already starting to drip down his face. He was just doing his thing, running around and spinning his bass in that badass way he learned after a week of practice. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention, and one of the keys cut into Patrick’s nose, barely avoiding his mouth. And the poor kid just keeps singing, even though there’s definitely blood in his nostrils and mouth because jesus christ, head wounds bleed a lot.

“Should we stop the show?” Pete whispers into Joe’s ear. They’re all still playing but he can’t tell how bad Patrick’s wound is. If he has a broken nose...

Joe shrugs, clearly also shaken by the amount of fucking blood on Patrick’s face. “It can’t be that bad if he’s still singing.” Pete nods, and they clumsily finish the set. Luckily, they were on their last song.

They all immediately crowd around Patrick, each having their own unique experience with injuries on-stage. Andy, somehow always prepared, pulls a butterfly bandage out of his pocket.

“Get out of my fucking face,” Patrick swats away everyone but Andy, who’s carefully putting the bandage on. Joe backs up, leaving to get the first-aid kit in the corner of the bar. Pete just stands back a bit, still staring at the now closed gash. It’ll probably leave some kind of scar.

Patrick looks over at him. “Pete,” he says simply. It’s enough, though, to snap Pete out of it. He starts babbling.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? You're sure it's just a cut? Shit, you need to clean up. Make sure not to move your face too much, you’re cut’ll open up again. Where’s the bathroom? Where’s Joe? Fuck, I’m so sorry, Trick.” He takes Patrick’s wrist, starting to lead him in the general direction Joe went.

“Pete,” Patrick says again. Pete looks at him, right in the eye. “Chill out before I punch you in the throat.”

Joe appears next to him, a small first aid kit in hand. Pete takes it from him. “I’ll help him clean up,” he says.

“‘Kay, man, just get it done in ten minutes. We’ve got to leave for Wisconsin soon.” Pete nods, and Joe walks off. He takes Patrick’s wrist again and leads him all the way to the restroom. Inside, which is thankfully empty except for one dude hurling in the stall, he hurriedly wipes Patrick’s face clean with antiseptic wipes, checks to make sure his cut is clean, then puts more bandaging on it. He keeps wiping at Patrick’s face, even though most of him knows there’s no blood left. Keeps wiping, until Patrick has enough and grabs at his hand. Fiery annoyance burns in his blue eyes.

“Trick, fuck,” Pete loses it and just hugs Patrick, shaking slightly. He doesn’t shrug Pete off like he usually does, lets him lean against him, even when the drunk dude in the stall comes out and stumbles past them.

A few silent minutes pass, and during them Pete tries to form the words that so desperately want to crawl off of his tongue. Patrick eventually shifts, forcing Pete to pull himself together a bit more and stand up straight.

“We should get back to the van,” he says simply.

Pete sighs. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate that I could’ve hurt you like that. I never want to do it again.”

“It’s fine, now let’s get back to the van.” Patrick practically emits annoyed beams as he directs his attention away from Pete.

“I’m trying to fucking give a heartfelt apology here for freaking out after I smashed my bass against your head!” Most of the time Pete handles Patrick’s moods pretty well, but when he’s in a mood himself, it gets ugly.

“Maybe I’m tired of you constantly fawning over me like I’m your show-pony,” Patrick spits back. 

Immediately, Pete’s mood changes. Is that what Patrick think he is to him? “That’s not how I feel,” he practically whispers. It’s loud enough for Patrick, though, whose eyes begin to widen. Fuck, he’s already connected the dots, that smartass kid.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Stop. I don’t need to hear your romance bullshit, you know it’s not gonna work on me.”

Despite the acid slowly climbing up Pete’s throat, he rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to pull my romance bullshit on you, I would hopefully do it in a better way than this.” Patrick looks down. “So would it really be that bad, to, like…”

“Yeah, with your track record, it would,” he laughs humorlessly. “I’m not risking the band, Pete.”

“Come on, dude, we already fight like a married couple. All I’m asking for is the kissing and the sexual part. It doesn’t even have to be exclusive or some shit.” Pete takes a step into Patrick’s space, now close enough that looking right into his eyes causes his vision to go fuzzy. Because of this, he ends up focusing on his bandaged wound instead. Then his lips.

Which wasn’t a very bright idea, because now he’s kissing Patrick, his hot mouth pressed firmly against his own. And Patrick kisses back, which is consent enough for Pete. Just as he’s about to slide a hand down Patrick’s pants, though, Andy walks into the bathroom, looks them up and down, and waits patiently. Pete reluctantly pulls off Patrick.

“As long as you guys promise not to bump nuts while I’m around, Joe’s got the van pulled up outside.”

Patrick’s busy biting his lips and fighting back a blush, so Pete responds for them with, “No nut bumping, got it. Let’s go.”

On the way back across the bar, Pete keeps his hand firmly in Patrick’s. “I’m serious, I am never going to jump around onstage near you ever again. That shit was way too scary, bro.”

Patrick laughs. One of this real, genuine chuckles. He leans into Pete’s ear. “Shut up about it or you’re never getting this ass.” They laugh together, and, you know what, everything’s okay. For now, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this! Hope everyone enjoys it, and of course, let me know your thoughts on it! (ps I wrote this mostly sleep-deprived so sorry if it's a little messy)


End file.
